Driven by the Promise
by LEYTON-NALEY
Summary: Oliver pays Felicity back. Sequel to Stone of Suffering. Read that one first, though it is not necessary to do so.


After a failed mission, Oliver, Felicity, Diggle, and Roy headed back to Verdant. No one said a word, though Felicity's annoyance could be felt by all of them. She had already scolded them at least five times that night, and they were all wondering what was making her so upset. Once in the basement of the club, Felicity approached her computers, punching in random keys.

Diggle looked expectantly at Oliver, assuming he wold provide further instruction. It was already dark outside, and Diggle knew there was no use in trying to attack their opponent again that night. When Oliver didn't say anything, Diggle stepped forward.

"Obviously we've all had a long day. Let's just call it a night," Diggle suggested, draping his jacket over his arm.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Oliver dismissed, exhaling loudly. "You should head home too, Roy."

"Are you sure?" Roy asked, putting his hands in his pockets. "I could stay and help out for a while longer."

"I think we've done plenty for today."

Roy nodded, following Diggle up the stairs and out of Verdant.

"We did not work nearly as hard as we were supposed to. I really didn't want to spend more time on this project than necessary," Felicity said, shaking her head.

Oliver turned quickly, facing her back side with a straight face.

"What's been going on with you?" he questioned, Felicity detecting a hint of anger hidden among all that frustration. "You've been so short with us recently."

She spun around on her heels, jabbing a finger in his direction. "Do not be upset with _me_ for being so stressed because of all the work _you've_ been telling me to do."

"Don't blame you being wound up on me. I never ask you to do more than I know you can handle."

"Maybe your opinion of how much I can handle is different from what I actually can."

"So your stress is my fault?" All he got in response was a shrug of her shoulders, but that was all he needed to trigger an idea that would surely put her stress at ease. "Fine. I accept full blame for it."

"You do?" she asked skeptically, caught off guard by his sudden coolness.

"Yes," he nodded. "Which means that I will do whatever I feel is necessary in order to make up for this."

Judging by the way her eyes remained in confused slits, she was not catching on to what he was saying. With a tilt of his head in the direction of a table, realization struck her face. Redness quickly spread over her light skin, cementing the knowledge that she knew full well what he was implying.

"I have absolutely no idea what you are getting at, but I think it's time you went home for the night. We have a lot of work to get done tomorrow," she said, suddenly nervous.

"Felicity, it's time for me to finally pay you back," Oliver decided, not giving her room to argue. "And I'm going to do it right on that table."

Her stomach flipped, eyes widening in response to his words. Clearing her throat, she tried to configure a response that wouldn't give away her complete lack of confidence. At the very least, she needed a second to prepare herself; find her footing. Oliver didn't seem willing to give her that time.

"Uh, I don't think this table is exactly sterile," Felicity sputtered, backing up with every step Oliver took towards her.

Her back hit the metal of the table they had used for most of their medical emergencies. Oliver had a look in his eye that told Felicity his mind was already set on what he was planning on doing to her. As he approached her, she swallowed at the shadows drawn across his face from the lighting in the room and the way his chest was already heaving with want.

His body collided with hers hard, lips fusing themselves to hers. His fingers ran across her cheek, sliding downwards over each and every curve of her. She took a fist full of his shirt, urging him closer than the already impossible closeness he currently was with her. Tongue swiping across her closed lips, she opened them slightly. Her intentions had been to tease him; maybe even slow things down because at the rate they were going, this would be over very soon. Oliver wasn't having any of it.

His tongue forced it's way into her mouth, greedily claiming it for his own taking. With her mind hazy from his kisses, she almost didn't notice his hands hoisting her onto the cool metal. Her legs crossed at the ankle, preventing him from stepping between them. Her skirt rode up her thighs though, and she assumed that was the only reason he was letting her tease him with the restriction of their bodies from being closer.

Suddenly, his palm landed flat against her upper thigh, making the temperature in the room spike. His fingers tucked themselves under the thin fabric, disappearing from sight. He was so close to where she needed him most; she knew he could feel her heat. She pulled away from him, their breath mingling together due to their foreheads resting against one another.

"This table is going to be far from sterile when I'm done with you," he murmured, voice thick with lust.

Her response was to kiss him harder, yanking his body to hers as she molded into him. His thumb flickered across her from its place underneath her skirt, and she sucked in a shaky breath. Dragging his other hand down her back, she felt him searching for her zipper. It was her hands that held his face to hers, nipping at his lower lip while he effortlessly found the metallic zipper of her grey skirt.

In one pull, her zipper was all the way down, separating the two ends of fabric from each other. He nearly toppled over her at the realization that she was wearing nothing underneath it. She giggled, it turning into a moan when he attached his lips to that special spot just below her ear. His lips trailed a pattern down her neck, searing each inch of skin with his name along the way.

Her hands rested on his shoulders, remaining there as the height difference between them was reversed. The shirt she was wearing was quickly discarded, as Oliver had no patience in fiddling with buttons at the moment. Palming her breasts with one hand, he unhooked her bra with the other. Aside from her skirt that was loosely hanging onto her body, she was completely nude.

When she had pictured this happening before, she always imagined herself having an arousing amount of confidence. The self consciousness of the actual situation began to seep in, and she felt her arms come up to cross over her chest in embarrassment. Stepping away with a hurt expression on his face, he waited for her to provide some sort of explanation.

"Did I do something?" he asked, eyes managing to stay focused on hers and not the obscene amount of flesh available for him to look at.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Of course you didn't. I'm just... I guess I'm just feeling a little self conscious."

Uncontrollably, she felt her face flush. A small smile curved the corner of his mouth, and she could see the glint of amusement in those blackened eyes.

"Felicity, you have nothing to be self conscious about. You are perfect." Before she could say anything else, he was speaking once again. "Let me prove it to you."

All she could do was provide a small nod of agreement at the throaty way he had told her that; her words stolen from her mind due to the way his hands had landed right on the insides of her upper thighs. Lowering his body so that his head was at level with her hips, she couldn't help but stare down at him, want and need burning her up inside. Using his palms, he nudged her thighs apart. There was no resistance to open herself to him. She was completely under his control.

His thumbs spread her open, making her knuckles pale from holding onto the table's edge so tightly. Slipping one finger inside of her, he nearly made her cry out. Slickness met his finger, showing him just how badly she wanted this, wanted him. He entered another finger inside of her, eyes glued to her face so he could catch her reaction.

Biting her lip in order to keep her cries in, she let only a small whimper escape. Frustrated that she was holding back, Oliver began to pump into her at a slow pace. Her chest was heaving, and he could tell she was already building up to her first orgasm. The quicker he moved his fingers, the harder it became for her to stay quiet.

God, the urge to taste her was practically killing him. He bit his tongue, forcing himself to hold back until the moment was right. He wanted to hear her say his name. He wanted her to acknowledge that it was him, Oliver Queen, that was giving her such pleasure. Considering how stubborn he knew she was, he was aware of the effort it was going to take for that to happen.

On the other hand, he was actually proud of her restraint. When it had been him in this situation, he had been grounding her name out before she had even touched him. Here she was, teetering on the edge, only allowing pleas for God and a series of pitched tones to leave her mouth. Another thing he thought was worthy of noticing was the way she refused to touch him.

Her hands remained holding the table, though he knew she wanted to have some form of control over what he was doing. A memory of his personal limitations he had held when she had been performing the act that had put them in this situation in the first place shot into his mind, reminding him of how she had handled that.

Leaving his right hand to continue its pattern of going in and out of her, he reached for hers with his left. Her eyes had been shut, them flickering open when she felt his touch on her left hand. As he looked up at her, he couldn't help but become entranced by the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. She looked down at him, and he remembered why he had reached for her hand in the first place.

Picking it up from the table, he placed it over his right hand. Their eye contact remained, him waiting for her to understand what he wanted from her. He was almost certain she knew what he was trying to say, yet her hand refused to do anything but rest over his. Despite his focus on getting her to participate, he noticed how close she was to climaxing.

Her body tightened around his fingers repeatedly. Giving her a darkened look, he urged her to move her hand. She fought it, looking back without even flinching. He pumped his fingers faster than any pace he had gone so far, fueled on by frustration. She let out a low moan, digging her nails into the flesh surrounding his thumb. He smirked at the achievement, though it was small.

It wasn't going to take much more for her to come. Wondering what he could do to win this small battle, something occurred to him. Slowly, he curled the edges of his fingers, giving her an all new sort of pleasure. Clearly, that was a smart call on his part. She cried out louder than she had before, actually gripping his hand and leading him along at the speed her body craved.

He allowed himself to smile, watching as she used his hand to get herself off. Her head was thrown back in pleasure, a signal that she was about to come at any second. Then, her body was arching, a silent scream coming from her mouth. Quickly, he removed his hand, replacing it with his mouth.

Without even the chance to recover, she slapped both of her hands onto his head. She buried her fingers into his short hair, pressing his face deeper into her. He did not mind in the slightest. She tasted so good, so sweet. His tongue slid over every inch of her, lapping up her juices and tasting all that he could of Felicity Smoak.

Pulling back to catch his breath, he pondered how long he could tease her. Her hands were already trying to shove his face back into her, but he wrapped his hands around her wrists to prevent that. She looked down at him, anger mixed into her pleading blue eyes.

"Why are you stopping?" she huffed, knitting her brows together.

"Beg," he ordered, voice so deep it was almost unrecognizable.

"What?"

"Beg," he repeated. "Tell me how bad you want this."

Her stubbornness came through yet again, and she yanked her hand free from his grasp. Before he could blink, her hand was covering the place his mouth had just been, doing the job that had been meant for him. Angered, he tore her hand away, locking it into his grasp once again. This hold was one she wasn't going to get out of easily, and he saw the recognition hit her when she had figured it out as well.

"Beg," he grit out, holding her wrists against her stomach.

"Please," she murmured, eyes blazing in agony.

"Say my name," he demanded, watching as her eyelids narrowed in defiance. "Say my name and I'll make it worth it."

For a moment, he actually worried that she wasn't going to say it. If he were being honest, he knew that if she didn't, he would have gone through with his plan anyway. It was impossible for him to leave her hanging like that; especially since she hadn't done that to him. Then, a second before he was about to cave, she spoke.

"Please, _Oliver_."

She said his name, emphasizing the tone to show that she was fed up with his games. He could not care less about how she had said it, instead focusing on the fact that she had said it at all. Triumph filled him, knowing it was his turn to keep up his end of the deal.

Rising onto his feet, he pressed his palm against her stomach to bring her to her back. Her bare skin came into contact with the cold surface, making her back arch. He hunched forward, lifting her lower half off of the table. Wrapping her legs around his face, he began to devour her. This time, there was no way for her to hold back.

She cried his name, so loud it echoed through the room. Her hands gripped the sides of the table, that being the only thing she could keep a firm grasp on. Palms pushing harder against her thighs, he pressed his face deeper into her. He licked and teased his way around every place he could, taking note of the various reactions that were brought upon from her.

Setting her hips back onto the table, he kneeled down in front of her. Immediately, she sat up, burying her hands into his hair. Roughly, she shoved his face forward. A strangled moan left her throat when his tongue shot out, stroking imaginary designs into her. She tugged roughly on his hair, breathing out instructions of what she wanted him to do.

He obeyed her every command, hooking his arms around her hips and dragging her closer to his lips. There was no energy left for her to hold onto, so she allowed her second orgasm to overcome her. Continuing his tasting, he held on tighter as she rode out her orgasm. His name tumbled from her lips, making him close his eyes to savor the way it sounded.

When she got her breathing under control, he stood back up to his full height. Her eyes seemed heavy as she looked up at him.

"I think I paid you back," he smugly said, crossing his arms.

"I think you overpaid me," she corrected, making him chuckle.

"Consider it interest."

He stepped back, and a confused look came cross her features.

"Where are you going?" she asked, eyebrows knit together.

"Home," he answered, reflecting her expression.

"You're going home like _that_?" she questioned, glancing pointedly at the obvious bulge in his pants.

His face turned red, making Felicity wonder if she was just imagining Oliver Queen blushing, or if it were really happening.

"I'll take a cold shower."

"That's no fun," she responded, getting that glint in her eye that always made him suck in a breath.

"No? And what do you suggest I do about it?"

Her answer to his question was to hook her fingers through the waist of his pants, and tug him to her. Standing between her legs, he watched as she began to undo his pants. Unconsciously, he combed his fingers through her blonde hair. Before he could even get his pants off, she was pulling him out and stroking him with a purpose.

"Felicity," he groaned, scolding himself for lacking the restraint she had held.

Despite the extreme amount of pleasure she was bringing him, he had to stop her movements. Glancing at the metal table, he imagined what they would be doing on it and cringed.

"What?" she asked, concerned she had done something wrong this time.

"Not here," he said, voice gruff.

"You're kidding," she laughed, taking him in her hand once again.

"Felicity, not here," he repeated, more firmly this time.

"Where else would we do this at?" she questioned, almost as frustrated as she had been before he had started all of this.

"There," he answered, jutting his head in the direction of the bed she had bought for him all that time ago.

Her smile was devilish as she hopped off of the table and took a hold of his hand. He stepped out of his pants, bringing his boxers along with them. It was as if she were in control of his body now. He didn't stop her when she sat him on the bed, shoving him flat against the mattress. He didn't stop her when she climbed on top of him, straddling his lap. He didn't stop her, and he didn't want to.

Her lips attached themselves to the start of his jaw, sucking and biting her way to the other side. With her tongue trailing down his neck, he found his hands running over the smooth skin on her back. Her hands tucked themselves underneath the collar of his shirt, her hips grinding against his. She was moaning at the friction, and he was clenching his eyes as a series of curse words passed his lips.

When she stopped, they were both completely out of breath. Her hands came out from hiding, fingers getting to work on unbuttoning his shirt. Her lips were there to greet every scrap of skin the undoing of a button introduced. As soon as the last button was undone, he was flipping them over so that she was now on her back. A pleased gasp was his response from her, his upper half raised so he could remove his shirt.

With every article of clothing officially nonexistent between them, he brought their lips back together. He was surprised when it was her tongue pushing into his mouth and not the other way around. Determination seemed to be consuming her, and he definitely was not complaining. After she locked her legs around his waist, he let his head fall into the crook of her neck.

"Felicity, once we do this, there's no going back," he reminded her, lifting his head to look into her eyes.

"I know," she said, nodding slightly.

"Once we do this, I'll never be able to forget what it's like to be inside of you; what it's like to be one with you," he told her, urging her to understand the significance of what they were about to do. "I'll never be able to forget it, and I won't want to."

Raising her hand to his head, her nails scraped lightly against the spot above his ear. Tilting her chin upwards, she kissed him. Time seemed to slow as their lips moved in a way that had somehow become natural to them. When he entered her, he did so slowly and carefully, swallowing the sounds she was making just because he wasn't sure he could handle it.

Every second that passed, he became more familiar with her body. Once fully inside of her, he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Her chest was heaving against his, and he knew this was having the same affect on her as it was on him.

"You OK?" he whispered, kissing just under her chin.

"I can't really describe what I'm feeling right now," she replied, tilting her chin upwards as he kissed sloppily along that expanse of skin. "But it's good. I feel good. _You_ feel good."

His chest rumbled with laughter, and he decided to shift his hips forward. She gasped, surprised by the sudden action. Her hand gripped his bicep, her other one pushing his face into her neck. As Oliver swung his hips into her, her legs tightened firmer around his waist. He huffed out her name with each thrust, holding onto her waist for accuracy.

Soon, they were clinging onto each other, nails and teeth branding marks into each other's skin. Then, he was flipping onto his back, covering their bodies with the cool sheets and hoisting her onto his chest. With her body splayed over his, he couldn't help but wish they could stay cemented into that moment.

"This may be a little redundant to ask, but this was more than just payback, wasn't it?" Felicity questioned, looking up at him.

"Of course," he said, tilting her chin up so he could brush his lips against hers.

They kissed softly, fully appreciating the intimacy of the action. He shifted onto his side, inching his way back to his earlier position of being on top of her. She let out a low groan when his tongue slipped between her lips, and he bucked his hips involuntarily.

"Really," she murmured, and he could feel her smiling against his lips.

"Can't help it," he replied, his breathing laboring quickly. He reached between them, smirking down at her. "And apparently, you can't either."

Cupping his face, she kissed him harder. It was almost bruising, but he kissed her back with just as much force.

There was a sound at the door, and he was immediately in aware mode. She felt his body tense, his head swiftly turning towards the noise. His arms bracketed her, shielding her from whatever had made that sound. The door opened, and footsteps descended from the stairs.

"You guys won't believe what I did," a voice boomed, moving farther into the room.

"Laurel," Oliver mumbled, praying they would stay hidden in the shadows and she would leave without seeing them.

Laurel walked towards the computers, looking down at her phone with excitement. Once she realized she wasn't going to get a response, she looked up. Thankfully, her body was angled away from Oliver and Felicity. They could see her glance around the room, phone still in hand.

"Guess they just forgot to turn off the lights," Laurel muttered, heading back for the door. Her foot got caught on Felicity's skirt, and Oliver cringed. "What the hell?"

"Oh, God," Felicity groaned, knowing how this was going to play out before it even happened.

Laurel's head swiveled in the direction of them, eyes widening slightly. She stumbled backwards, obviously not believing what she was seeing was real.

"What are you- How long has- I mean, Diggle told me that something was going on, but I-" she stuttered, backing away with each word. "You know, I'll just go. I never saw anything here."

"Sorry," Oliver called out, grimacing when the door slammed shut and they were alone again.

"We owe her like a giant cake or something," Felicity told him, shaking her head at what had just happened.

"Yeah," Oliver sighed, burying his face into her hair.

She laughed, triggering his laughter. By the time he was back in his spot at her side, they were still grinning and chuckling. His arm wrapped protectively around her, him giving her temple a quick kiss.

"Best night ever," she mumbled, eyes shutting in exhaustion.

"Agreed."

* * *

**A/N: So, I wasn't planning on making this so long, but I kind of got lost in this scenario. Since I was drawing a blank as to how I should end this oneshot, I just decided to leave things on a more humorous note. Laurel walking in on the two of them seemed funny in my mind. A big thanks to everyone who reviewed Stone of Suffering and let me know how much they wanted this sequel. Hopefully, I lived up to your expectations. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought of it. Any and all feedback is welcome. Thank you! **


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